The poet and the muse
danced together, in their own orbits.
Like a tremulant tango.
Lead, to be lead and break off in a twirl of her own.

The poet said “This passion holds me up”.
She retorted, “It can break us apart. Sometimes”.

The poet said “Without it I would have no focus.”
“You have no hold on or to a center”, she said,
you dance like a bull fighter. The bull you know he would have no show without the matador.
But the bull knows not his demise will be for the sake of a shift, shuffle of dancing feet, bravado and showmanship?”.

“I do not know “ said the poet. “ I care not for the brutality of the fight”.

A planet has a typically elliptical orbit, unlike some moons.
And with a planet, unlike that of a pendulum which swings from a center, the central object is at a focal point of the ellipse.

She said, “Why can I not be the center you lack?”.
The poet said, “ My focus swings and changes with the tides of my desires, my moods and my loves”.

“Am I not your love?”.

The question unanswered, fell to silence.

Planets and moons fall out of orbit when the pull is lost, or maybe some would say a sense of center.

“I see you”, the poet said.
“I do not see me in you”, said the muse. “I am like a dead moon, ready to fall or waiting to die”.

I know not if I can catch you, was the poets passing thought as the muse brought a focus to it all,
“I want love and a center.
Is that too much to ask?”.